


Imitation Is The Sincerest Form Of Flattery

by Eustacia Vye (eustaciavye)



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-17
Updated: 2012-01-17
Packaged: 2017-10-29 16:47:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,419
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/322016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eustaciavye/pseuds/Eustacia%20Vye
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What do you do if you know your lover can become a beautiful woman in any dream he wanted to? Make him show you what he has looked like, of course.</p><p>For the prompt <a href="http://inception-kink.livejournal.com/19632.html?thread=46706096#t46706096">A gallery of all the gorgeous women Eames has forged. These images don't exist in the real world, because they're all from dreams.</a> I kinda changed the prompt around a bit to play up the gallery aspect, and include links to potentially NSFW pics.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Imitation Is The Sincerest Form Of Flattery

The blonde was covered in tattoos, and she bent over enticingly in high heels. She wore skin colored bra, panties and thigh high stockings attached to a g string, and wasn't perturbed in the slightest about being seen in that pose. [If anything, she seemed to expect it.](http://www.shuriejenai.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/04/bridget_8021sml-682x1024.jpg) Her dyed blonde hair also seemed to blend in, making the tattoos on her arm and torso stand out even more.

"Those aren't even your tattoos," Ariadne groused, turning around to face Eames. He was smirking at her. "What?"

"Are you _jealous?"_ Eames asked, amused. Her glower made him laugh out loud, and he slid a hand down the side of her torso, curling around her hip. "You do realize there are some _familiar_ parts to her, don't you?"

Ariadne frowned at him and tried to remember why she insisted on seeing the faces of the different people he had forged over the years. She wasn't jealous. Not at all.

Okay, maybe a little. The blonde had a larger chest than she did, was taller and could work the four inch heels amazingly well. Ariadne felt like a gangling tomboy in comparison.

"No," she said with a sigh, turning away from the blonde. She was nothing but a fragment of memory he had on display for her at her request. This was a shameless piece of self-indulgence on her part. She was being masochistic today, that was all. Ariadne contemplated doing something drastic to get his projections to turn on her. Perhaps altering the building and making parts of it collapse would draw them out. Or leaving the gallery and starting a fire while shouting "God Save The Queen!" at the top of her lungs.

Eames let his palm slide down to cup her rear, squeezing slightly. "Well, to be fair, I don't suppose you actually see what your luscious little backside looks like." He gave said backside another fond squeeze and bent over to whisper in her ear. "It's yours, love. The very best forges all have a piece of the familiar about them, I find. And since we've been together, yours is the most familiar form I copy. I do so love copying it."

Ariadne looked at him in wonder. "Really?" She blinked, still unsure of herself. "But... She looks nothing like me."

"Parts of her does," Eames replied, leaning forward again and moving to take her earlobe between his lips. He tugged gently, smiling against her skin. He only stepped back once she shivered at the contact. "Shall I show you more?"

"Yeah. I'm not sure I believe you just yet."

It was set up like a gallery, only the paintings were life sized and three dimensional. With another fond squeeze of her rear, Eames guided her a little farther down in the gallery. [The next girl in line](http://www.shuriejenai.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/02/twilight.jpg) had dark hair and light eyes, pale skin and berry colored lips. Ariadne tried to pick out the details that Eames might have taken from her body, but couldn't tell right away. He grinned, tugging at her hair as the clue; it wasn't the same shade, but there was still that soft wavy texture that wasn't quite a full curl. "This fair skin, the texture of your hair and your nose, darling." Eames laughed at her incredulous look. "You can't tell because this is static, but I absolutely did model her nose after yours. She wrinkles it the same way you do. It's absolutely adorable the way you look at things that displease you. There's this wonderfully innocent yet imperious air about you."

"That makes me sound stuck up," Ariadne sighed. She was trying to keep from getting charmed by him, but his lighthearted and playful demeanor made that difficult. There was a reason why the two of them were together, after all, and being able to know each other and indulge in their quirks was part of why they fit so well.

"Makes me want to live up to your expectations," he corrected, sliding his arms around her. He cupped her breasts and rubbed his thumbs over her nipples. He half turned her so that she was facing another girl in the gallery, a brunette with straighter hair and more of an attitude in the way she stood. "What do you think I took to create her?"

Ariadne tried to push aside the odd feeling that she was checking out some random girl with her lover. Some people did do this, after all. Really, the only thing truly odd about it was that they were going through facades that Eames had put on in the past. He had pretended to be these girls, for whatever reason that best fit the job, and none of them were real.

Ariadne tried to think of this entire exercise as an art history class instead, as if looking at a painting or sculpture to try and puzzle out its artistic influences. With a little more distance that way, Ariadne leveled a critical gaze on [the next brunette.](http://www.shuriejenai.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/02/tunnel.jpg) "That's my bra size and one of my camis," she declared after a moment, almost surprised. "Oh."

Eames chuckled. "Why do you sound so surprised? You know how much I love every inch of you. Every _little_ inch," he teased, lifting her up into his arms and swinging her about. She was tiny, which he adored; it made him feel overly protective of her at times, as if he was this hypermasculine man protecting his oh so very delicate lover. It wasn't quite the truth, given that Ariadne could take care of herself and was downright vicious if she was attacked. Still, part of the fun was the illusion of innocence that she carried, as if he was corrupting her with every kiss, every touch, every time he tumbled her into their bed. The thrill of the illicit was intoxicating, and he knew she was just as enamored of that as he was.

"Stop making short jokes!" she cried, tugging on his hair. It was a sharp pull, one that made his breath catch a little. He liked it a little rough and wild, and it turned out that she did as well. That made their size difference something else to play up at times, since he could stretch her out almost uncomfortably if he didn't prep her enough beforehand.

He merely laughed and held her up so that he could kiss her breathless. "Darling, you know how much I love memorizing the taste and touch of your skin. Come on, let me show you another."

It was odd to take in all of the different faces, hair colors, shapes and sizes of the different women in the gallery and know that _something_ of theirs actually had belonged to her first. Ariadne found it humbling and almost endearing at once. Well, as much as the situation could possibly be called endearing, at least. It wasn't a normal expression of love and devotion, but theirs was hardly a normal kind of relationship. Oh, they loved each other, fought about trivial things like the fact that Eames left the toilet seat up and could never remember to cap the toothpaste after using it, or the way she left her art supplies strewn all over the apartment and could never remember to do the laundry until they were out of clean clothes. But they also loved similar cuisine and art house movies, could talk for hours about absolutely nothing and understood each other as no one else did.

[The next blonde](http://www.shuriejenai.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/02/sick.jpg) had the shape of her eyes and nose, while [another girl nearby](http://www.shuriejenai.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/02/scrape.jpg) had Ariadne's quirky smile and tomboyish figure. "Your smile," Eames told her in a low, sensual voice, "is one of those things that I love recreating over and over." He traced her lips with his fingers, smiling when her breath caught at his touch. "I love seeing it, love making you laugh or smile."

"Is that why you tease me so much?" Ariadne asked, reaching forward to rest her hands on his chest. She traced the muscles there beneath his shirt, her lips lifting slightly into a smile.

"One of the reasons," he conceded. "There's your temper, which is fun to provoke sometimes. I can't guess what you'll do next, you know. Every moment is new and fascinating, and you never say what I think you'll say. It's always fresh and exciting to be near you, darling."

"It is?" she asked. Funny how they never talked about these kinds of things while awake. They could joke or yell or discuss all sorts of topics, but when it came down to their own feelings, neither had been entirely comfortable openly expressing them. Perhaps it was because of the nature of their jobs; if they never admitted anything, they couldn't be used against each other as a threat. That didn't mean the emotions weren't there, but it was always easier to deny something that went unsaid.

"One of the many reasons I love you," Eames told her, cupping her face in his hands.

 _"Oh."_ She was breathless, eyes wide with the admission. He was merely grinning at her, appearing as self confident as usual. Reaching up, she covered one of his hands with her own, her expression softening. "I love you, too."

"I know," he replied, a trifle smug. Well, here it was safe to admit it. Here, they could say or do anything and not worry about being observed.

Eames kissed her soundly, lifting her in his arms so that his tongue could plunder her mouth. She clung to his shoulders, feeling as if she was falling. He would catch her, she knew. He would never let anything horrible happen.

Sliding her hands beneath his shirt, Ariadne traced the skin of his back. She had forgotten the purpose of going into the dream, and the thought of his skin against hers was too tempting to resist. While Eames readily took off his shirt once their kiss broke, he didn't reinitiate it once she pulled off her own. Instead, he tossed the two shirts aside and then guided her farther down the hallway to look over the gallery.

Ariadne recognized [the pattern of moles](http://www.shuriejenai.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/02/green.jpg) and the smooth skin on another girl's back, even without Eames touching the same moles on her own skin. He laughed at the sideways look she gave him, then leaned down to lick the spots in question. "What? You like it when I connect the dots here..."

Well, yes. She rather liked the things he did with his tongue, whether it was an innocuous lick across his own lips or when it stretched out to taste very naughty and private exposed skin between her legs. His rather talented fingers were just as much fun in those same places, and they were currently tracing abstract patterns across her bare stomach.

[Another girl](http://www.shuriejenai.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/02/goats.jpg) had Ariadne's golden eyes and the kind of eyebrows that she had once joked she would have to get tattooed on her face in order get them that perfect.

She was definitely letting go of her jealous thoughts and self-deprecating feelings as she picked out the details that Eames had taken from her body. [One girl was her height,](http://www.shuriejenai.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/02/forest.jpg) and wore one of the dresses that was in Ariadne's closet. "I think we can dream up that dress," Ariadne declared boldly, turning around in Eames' embrace. "I like it a lot and never get much of a chance to wear it."

He helped her out of her jeans, though she was distracted by his lips against her stomach and his tongue dipping into her navel. "Are you sure you want to wear a dress, darling?" he asked, a wicked smile on his sensual lips. "You look rather ravishing as is."

If he put it that way...

Ariadne looked around them as Eames kissed his way up her torso. [Another of his forges had her hands and shoulders,](http://www.shuriejenai.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/02/chipped-polish.jpg) and another woman had [the shape of her nipples or the slope of her neck.](http://www.shuriejenai.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/06/lisa-1627.jpg) His hands roamed over all of the body parts in question, and Ariadne was suddenly very aware that she was in nothing but a bra and panties. And said panties were growing increasingly damp just from the teasing touches and innuendo.

"Seen enough?" Eames murmured, nipping at her earlobe. They were close to the end of the gallery, though she was aware there were other wings available. He forged all sorts of men as well as other women; these were only the ones that captured a bit of her physique in them. "I'm sure we can wander some more if you really wanted to."

Ariadne turned in his grasp and pulled him down for a filthy kiss. "Or I can show you how superior the real thing is." She grinned and then kissed him again. "There's all of me here, not just bits and pieces. Think you can handle me?"

Eames snorted. "Probably not, but it's always worth a good try."

It didn't take much for the gallery to disappear and the bedroom of their apartment to resolve in its place. Ariadne unhooked her bra and tossed it aside. She didn't bother to track where it fell, as Eames was kneeling in front of her again. He drew her panties down and then leaned forward to taste her, practically feasting on her flesh. She shook with the effort to remain upright, and she tumbled backward onto the bed.

The timer ran out just as Eames shed his own clothing and joined her, making her swear up a storm as soon as Ariadne realized they were awake again.

Laughing, Eames sat up and drew the needle from his wrist. "Well. I suppose this means you're not as jealous about the forges I've put together? You do realize I only imitate the best."

"Flatterer," Ariadne said, lips quirking into a half smile.

"But of course. One of my many talents."

"You were about to show me one of your other ones."

Eames grinned at the tilt of her chin and the slight flush across her cheeks. Her eyes were dilated, her lips slightly parted. These signs were clear, and he could predict what would happen next. He would stand, remove her line and lead her to the bedroom. They would have fantastically hot sex and then lie tangled together on the bed afterward, too spent to move.

"I believe I was," he declared, leaning over to remove her PASIV lead.

The rest of the evening progressed exactly as he predicted.

The End


End file.
